


North Star

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Camping trips, Gen, M/M, Marshmallows, hannibal secret santa, hannibal...IN JEANS, learn stuff about will's childhood, little bit of flirting, will is kind of angry and angsty (BECAUSE THAT NEVER HAPPENS EVER)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:49:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will takes Hannibal on a camping trip and teaches him about the importance of nature.</p><p>(No this is not some weird after school special just go with it, yeah?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	North Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tumblr user pyritedark](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tumblr+user+pyritedark).



 

Will Graham had seen a great many things in his lifetime.  He had looked over the edge of the Grand Canyon at sunrise to see the way a fresh, new dawn caressed the red rocks below.  He had witnessed the birth of four puppies, spotted and impossibly small as they snuggled into their tired mother’s stomach to nurse.  He had seen horrors upon horrors, men mangled and women torn apart in every-which-way, some of which liked to visit his dreams in the darkness of a dog-filled bedroom. 

            All of these things paled in comparison to what was right before him, though: a lake all a-glitter with the last dregs of dusky sunlight dancing across the rippled surface, shadowy trees that grew green and tall towards a clear sky, where a smattering of stars was just beginning to peek out from behind the purple backdrop.  The crown jewel of the scene before him, however, did not belong to nature.  No, no, there was something far more incredible than diamond-stars and glassy waters, and it was sitting right next to him.

            “Will, are you quite alright?” 

            Ah, yes, it spoke.  ‘It’ was actually a ‘he,’ and the ‘he’ was a very specific ‘he:’ Hannibal Lecter, to be exact.  Of course, at first glance, it didn’t _look_ like Hannibal Lecter.  The man in question was wearing _jeans_ , believe it or not, and a simple button-down shirt.  Will was surprised that he actually paid attention when he told his psychiatrist to dress down: three-piece suits and camping trips do not mix. 

            “I’m inclined to take a picture…immortalize the moment.”  Will reached down into the old red and white cooler at his feet and pulled out two bottles of beer—what else would go with a crackling fire and stick-skewered marshmallows?—and handed one to Hannibal, who gave a grateful nod and accepted it without so much as a glance at the label. 

            “Is it really so strange to see me like this?”

            “The great Doctor Lecter, three-piece suit incarnate, has hopped down from his gourmet-dining pedestal and is wearing denim pants while eating processed food off a stick.  It’s a miracle!”

            “I do enjoy partaking in your quaint, plebian customs every once in a while…”  Hannibal pulled a lightly-browned marshmallow out of the fire and, after examining it from all sides, deemed it worthy of passing his lips.  Even now, sitting in an old lawn chair with a half-finished bottle of beer in-hand, he managed to look dignified as he chewed the sugary treat and savored its smoke-kissed flavor. 

            “Ah, yes, that’s the spirit!  I’m glad to see that a change of scenery hasn’t made you any less of a pretentious ass.”  Will retracted his own marshmallow, which had since caught fire, and blew out the flames with a sheepish grin.  Hannibal shot him a smirk but said nothing, since it would no doubt be considered rude to talk with a mouthful of marshmallow. 

            “Did you expect any less of me?”  Hannibal took a sip of beer, and although he hadn’t refused the beverage in the first place, he did not ingest it with his usual reverence. 

            “I suppose I can take Hannibal out of society, but I can’t take the society out of Hannibal.” 

            “While I find this entire experience…charming, in its own way, I would much rather stay indoors.  More often than not, there is less smoke and dirt when inside—at least, in my home, that is.”

           “Am I supposed to be offended?”

           “I don’t know.  Are you?”

           “Cheeky bastard.”  Will said with a smirk as he looked down at his half-charred stick.  He was done roasting—or rather, burning—marshmallows for the evening.  He threw it into the fire and watched a few wayward sparks flit away from the orangey flames. 

          “I find it interesting that you enjoy the wilderness so much.”

          “Oh?  And why is that?”

          “Nature is beautiful, Hannibal.  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

          “I suppose the plants and trees are nice, but I can see that beauty in a painting or out my window.  I fail to understand why it’s so important to be out in the thick of it.”

           There was a moment of silence, and Hannibal could tell that he had somehow upset his friend.  Will had shut down, hunched over with his elbows on his knees while his gaze fixated on the fire before him.  Hannibal liked to think that he was at his most beautiful, his most _pure_ when he was angry, when his eyes glittered with rage.  The campfire only enhanced the effect, and it was truly a sight to see.

          “ _God,_ Hannibal, you look all the damn time, but do you ever _see?_ ”  Will gave an exasperated sigh and wiped a hand down his face.  It was incredibly difficult for him to put something like this into words—a rare occurrence for the man who used a least five elaborate metaphors a day. 

         “See what, Will?  I see trees and rocks and—“

         “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant!”  His voice had taken on a more distressed tone.  “You’re just like everyone else, just _glancing_ and moving on without—“

         “Help me see, then.  Teach me how to see what you see.”  Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder, but the comforting gesture wasn’t as effective as he had hoped it would be.  Will let his eyes linger on the fire for a moment longer, before gulping down a mouthful of beer and giving a huff.

        “Take off your shoes and socks—oh, don’t even start with me, you elitist ass!  Just _do it_.”  Hannibal, although taken aback by Will’s sudden outburst, complied quickly enough.  He could tell Will was not in a mood to be trifled with, and besides, he was horribly intrigued. 

       “Now close your eyes and just…just bear with me, okay?  I-I’ve never explained it to somebody before.”

      “Okay, um, can you feel the dirt under your feet?  The way it moves when you move, the way it crumbles and—it feel like it’s all one thing, right?”

      “Yes.  It is dirt.”

      “Yeah, that’s right, but you…  My dad, he was a religious man, but he didn’t like churches.  He said God was everywhere, and a prayer from a building full of old ladies didn’t mean any more than a prayer from the back of a boat.  He, uh, he had this Bible—a tattered old thing, really, he couldn’t be bothered to get a new one—and he would read from it to me sometimes before bed.  I—my favorite passage said something like ‘remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.’  I don’t even know why I liked it so much, but…  It was comforting to me, in a way.”

      “And what do you think of it now?”

       “Now, I—I see it every time I come out here.  Just think about it, Hannibal.  Think about everything that has happened, ever, in the history of the world.  There has been so much, so many lives lived and—and loved, and…  They’re all dead.  All of them have come back here, to the dirt, and we’re standing on it.  We’re standing on a hundred million stories, and...  I can feel them.  The thing is that they still live on, just—just _different._   They become trees and rocks and everything that makes up this planet and eventually it all comes back to us, to people like you and me, and it helps us live.”

      “So it isn’t just dirt—it’s life?”

      “Yes, and—and, here, open your eyes, but—keep looking up.  What do you see now?”

      Hannibal’s eyes blinked open.

      “I see stars.  They’re beautiful.”

      “Yeah, I…  When I was little, I used to think that every person who ever lived is assigned a star, and it kind of watches over them every night.  It—it was stupid, I know, but it made me feel better.  And I would spend hours looking up at the sky, trying to find my star, trying to find my mother’s star…”  He sucked in a deep lungful of air before continuing, “Sometimes, I still assign stars to people, friends like you, and-“

     “Which one do you think is mine, Will?”

     “I-I don’t—“

     “You just said I had a star.  Which one is it?”

    “Ugh, I—okay, uh, promise not to laugh, alright?”

    “Of course not.”

    “You’re that one,” Will said, leaning closer to Hannibal and pointing at the sky.

    “You mean the North Star?”

    “Uh, yeah…  You’re always there to lead me back home, and…God, Hannibal, you burn brighter than all the rest of them.  You’re brilliant, you’re a constant…  You just—you lead me home.”

    “Will, I—“

    “No.  No psychoanalyzing this.  Just—“  Will stopped abruptly when he felt his friend’s fingers lace themselves with his own. 

    “If I am the North Star,” Hannibal whispered, squeezing Will’s hand, “then you must be the sun, because I could never in a thousand years shine brighter than you do right now.”

    And, for the first time in a long time, Will Graham let himself believe that maybe, _just maybe,_ he wasn’t so crazy after all.

    


End file.
